Everything You Know
by Merida's Hair
Summary: Emma Swan is going through magic puberty, and Regina is her only slightly unwilling tutor. There's a lot more emotions involved than either of them like. Swan Queen. AU Mid-Cricket Game.


A/N: This is a birthday gift for my friend! I hope you all enjoy. This will be around 5-7 chapters.

* * *

Emma Swan should hate her.

The thought swirls in Regina's mind as she walks the empty streets, refusing to leave with every defiant press against it. Her heels make an uncomfortably loud noise when it makes contact with the concrete, reminding her just how alone she is tonight on the streets of Storybrooke. There are those in their beds, surrounded by family, those alone as she is, but still comfortably warm, and then there are those at the party. Celebrating the return of the bespoke heroines. A place where she, a similarly bespoke villain, felt she should not be. There was no use convincing those who damned you to stop, even when you break the storybook molds and save the day.

They only remember how she could have killed Snow White and Emma Swan in the first place.

Except Emma _didn't_ think this way. Instead, she invites Regina to a party. Awkwardly over the phone with all the air of a last minute decision, but she calls nonetheless. The phone was shrill in her stale and cold home, interrupting her nightly sessions with a bottle of red wine, and there was an unfamiliar pounding in her heart after the call finished. Hope pressed against her stomach, causing it to cave in, and crawled through her veins to her heart, causing that to swell. She hadn't known what it was about. Henry, most likely, although she knows it's not the only reason. She hates nearly everyone at this party, and the only reason she seeks forgiveness in the first place is to see her son, so of course, that's not entirely it either. It leaves her disconcerted and surprised, and she absolutely _abhors_ surprises and how they often inflict suffering on her life.

Mocking, her head tells her Emma Swan, and how she constantly complicates everything, is very much a part of it. Even more so now, because she can't inflict enough misery on Emma's life to placate her own confusion. They share a son, and it's their middle ground more than ever. She wants Emma to trust her, it's a need, a blinding, hopeful, _idiotic _need, and when she snapped at Emma and immediately apologized, it wasn't for Henry, it was for her, and she despises this entire situation.

She tried being _nice_,tolerable, and then it bit her in the behind.

Emma Swan should hate her, and she doesn't, she is tolerated, she is given a _chance,_ a real one, not one dangled in front of her while she's chained to the wall.

She may need a second bottle tonight.

* * *

Light streams through her blinds, seeping through and completely unforgiving. It seemed that even remembering in her inebriated state to close them had done nothing to prevent the sunshine from finding it's way in. Light has a nasty habit of doing just that.

She almost forces herself to get out of bed, reminding herself that she has a duty to the town, before remembering oh yes her curse was broken, she is no longer the mayor, she's going to spend another day absolutely by herself because if she goes anywhere she may be assaulted. It's not the greatest motivator, so she stays with her pounding head and silk sheets and waits for some reason to put on a brave face for the morning. Take a shower. Put on her makeup. Step into a pantsuit and pretend she's still running a town.

The reason doesn't come for a very long time, so she reads some. The first book on her nightstand, a book of sonnets by an unknown author, and it's entirely uninteresting even though she typically enjoys poetry, and the words dance across the page.

Advil is ultimately her motivator. And a cup of coffee. She's going to run out soon, which means a trip to the grocery store, and apparently nothing is going to put her in a good mood. She should take a walk. Dr. Hopper suggested walks to clear her head, but she throws that option away, remembering how the bug revealed their therapy sessions. She would go back there, for Henry, and she doesn't like this fact even as she loves her son, so perhaps she'd watch television today. Perhaps some asinine medical show where everyone sleeps with each other would be on. Or maybe she'd destroy the guest room. Choices, choices. Destroying things that _weren't_ people's happiness or hopes and dreams or hearts apparently was a good outlet, again, according to Dr. Hopper.

And then there's that small hope again, this time pressing against her ribs, that Henry will visit. If he's allowed. She snarls at the fact that she's now disallowed from seeing her own _son_, how she's forcibly removed from her position as his full time parent. A sadness coupled this rage. However much he still loved her and wanted her to change, he'd always love Emma Swan more. The fact could rip Regina in two if she let it. She focusses her energy on not blaming anyone for this fact. Including Emma. She wants to hate Emma, but she can't hate Emma, and that fact could drive her insane as the other could break her.

Funny how things breaking in her life seem to revolve around their dear Sheriff.

What she'd appreciated, although she was reluctant to admit it, and wasn't willing to admit it until it was suddenly gone, was the fights between them. With no one to even consider challenging her in twenty eight years, the change in pace was electrifying. Emma _wasn't _afraid of her. She never had been. She was a surprise not entirely unwelcome, and that was something new. She'd gotten in Regina's face as much as Regina got in hers. However the uncertainty and fear trumped this feeling and she realized she valued her son loving her more. If anyone noticed her step was filled with more indignation and purpose after or before a meeting with Emma, they made a wise decision not to point it out to her.

Even now, a positive emotion regarding Emma left Regina with a bad taste in her mouth.

She sighs with the thought and puts down her cup, the bitter taste of coffee all of a sudden unappealing. With the curse breaking and swords being pointed at her neck, people were still wary of her, knowing all she was capable of. Emma isn't. She should be, but she isn't.

She gets the urge to fling the coffee cup into a wall. Why in the world was she thinking of Emma Swan at 8:30 in the morning?

What she wouldn't give for the woman to be back in the remains of the old realm, to spare her of this confusion, to give her more time to convince her son that she was capable of being a decent human being. She could handle the surprise of Emma standing up to her, but not Emma tolerating her. There was something ironic in this fact.

She washes her mug carefully, and sees a forgotten Iron Man bowl in the sink. She touches it briefly and is reminded of days when life between her son and her were as simple as buying comic books and meals of macaroni and cheese (once a week, she always made sure her son maintained a healthy diet) and weekly nights spent on math homework and tv before nine.

There are many things she resents about Emma, but losing this with her son is one that she may resent the most. And resenting still isn't hate, _and why can't she hate this woman_. Why can she hate Snow White with conviction, but not hate her daughter, equally destructive in her life?

Logically, it makes no sense. Except for Henry. Yes, perhaps her head is realizing the benefits of not hating her son's other mother. This placates her as she resolves to work on budgeting the rest of the day. She only manages a few steps towards her office before a knock sounds at the door. Her heart gives a small leap, but then she remembers it's Tuesday, and her son is at school. Or hopefully it's at school. She fears with the commotion her son's education is bering entirely forgotten by his current caretakers.

If it's Sheriff Swan, she's going to back to sleep and giving up on today entirely.

* * *

It is. Of course.

Her luck hasn't exactly served her particularly well in life.

* * *

Sheriff Swan is back to leather jackets and hands jammed into pockets and the sudden flashback to a year before is comforting in all the ways it shouldn't be. She's also fidgety, as if there's something she needs to say and it keeps wriggling around within her until she forces it out.

"Hey." She breathes, and clears her throat, but doesn't say anything else. Regina is evidently supposed to respond. Perhaps she'll stand at the doorway for a little while longer, staring at Emma expectantly just to make her even more uncomfortable. The idea is tempting, but she relents because Emma is sweating now and she's uncomfortable just looking at her.

"Why are you here, Sheriff?" She asks sharply. No need for pleasantries where they were concerned.

"It's…complicated." Emma takes out her hands and starts fidgeting with the hem of her jacket. It's entirely unlike Emma and now Regina is curious whether she wants to be or not. She crosses her arms as if to say _I'm waiting_, and Emma sighs and drops her hands by her sides.

"Look I know we parted on….less than good terms last night. And I'm sorry. I think. About the bickering. Even though you did start it. We'll work out the Henry thing, I promise." She takes a deep breath before she rambles on.

Henry. Henry's always their middle ground, and he probably always will be as far as their fights go. Regina doesn't want Emma to come in. There are two wine bottles left on the coffee table in her parlor, and the last thing she wants to do is to reveal how much of her misery she wants to constantly drown to Emma Swan.

"I need your help." Emma forces out, her tongue catching on some of the words, visibly forcing them out. An odd lurch starts in Regina's stomach. The only thing Emma could be coming to Regina's help about is Henry, and if Henry is in danger-

"Is Henry alright?" Regina asks immediately, not even trying to feign coldness. Her eyes soften, and this softens Emma, and the tension both dissipates and grows at the same time.

"He's fine! Completely fine." Emma says, holding up her hands. "That's not what I'm here about."

Regina narrows her eyes and purses her lips, the warm emotion and anxiety draining exponentially from her body. "Then why _are _you here, Ms. Swan? I don't have all day."

Emma's mouth opens and closes and she sighs. "After we went home last night, Mary Margaret and I got into a…fight." She says the word like she's ashamed of it, of fighting with her long-lost mother, and Regina is amused enough to drown out the small pinch of guilt trapped in the pit of her stomach.

She crosses her arms and allows the amusement to quirk the corners of her mouth into a smirk.

"Still not calling her 'Mommy', dear? Trouble amongst the Charmings? Well, well. Looks like being good doesn't automatically give one a decent home life." She bites harder with each word before she can help herself, the resentment flares out. Snow White gets her prince and her daughter, and her precious friends, and Regina gets an empty grave and an empty heart. If she can't be her usual vengeful self, she's going to be a little bit mean. No matter how much she does need Emma to trust her, somewhere deep down, she's not going to let go of her meanness any time soon.

Emma, however, doesn't let the quip slide for once. The fidgeting stops and she gives Regina a hard glare. Reminding her suddenly of a young Snow White swearing to take back her kingdom if it's the last thing she does.

"Can you just be…._decent_ for once in your life? I'm actually not here to attack you, so I'd appreciate the same back."

Regina lifts an eyebrow and is about to sneer back a retort when Emma cuts her off once more.

"Jesus Christ, do yo _ever_ actually want to see Henry?"

It was the exact wrong thing to say, and both women know it. Regina's heart suddenly plummets, anger filling every crevice of her body, and Emma recoils from her defensive stance, her eyes wide and filled with apologies.

"I-"

"_My _son is the most important thing in my life. Don't you ever doubt that." She growls. She steps inches closer, dangerously. Every one of her words she drips with icicles, sharp and protruding outwards.

"I haven't been _decent_, as you said, for a very long time now. If you want me to suddenly sing your family's praises, you're going to be waiting for a very long time." The suddenly mute Emma Swan doesn't step back from Regina's advances, but doesn't step forward in retaliation either. "_Remember_ what I keep in my vault." She says, just inches away from her face. It was a bluff, a very good one, and Emma knew it. She wouldn't take out hearts. Not while her son almost was reluctant to call her evil to her face. Not when she still had something to lose.

She hopes Ms. Swan won't call it.

Emma breathes and does step back, hands in front of her. Not in fear, but evidently wanting to not get magically thrown down the porch steps, or create some other disastrous result. The subject of taking out hearts is left behind in the gesture, but Emma still looks wary.

"Sorry. I…shouldn't have said that. I'll get back to the subject, I promise."

"Tick tock, Ms. Swan." She says, arms across her chest, her voice still in that dangerous tone that used to make grown men cower in fear and wet their pantaloons. Emma rolls her eyes, and Regina scowls at this. Why can't Emma just mindlessly fear her like everyone else in this damn town does?

"Okay. So I had a fight with Mary Margaret. And…." She sighs sheepishly. "A lamp exploded. It didn't just break. Just literally…exploded. It nearly took our eyes out. And it was Mary Margaret's favorite lamp, so I haven't really heard the end of that but…." Her eyes look panicked and uncertain as they reach into Regina's own, beckoning her to listen carefully to what she has to say.

"…They think I have magic. Because of the whole true love spawn thing." Emma finishes in one breath. She stuffs her hands in her pockets, and looks down, unsureness in her posture. Regina for her part is suddenly dumbstruck, which honestly hasn't happen in a very long time. Her eyes widen and her lips part, and _of course_ Emma has magic. She's not sure why she's so bewildered, why she's suddenly peering at Emma with this blasphemous wonder. She remembers now, acutely, how Emma jumpstarted her magic just before the portal sucked her and Mary Margaret either.

She remembers how her exact anxiety and fear was reflected in the other woman's eyes. How her hand touching Regina's arms brought an equilibrium to the air, to the magic permeated towards it, that Regina's never felt before in her life. And then Emma was gone, and with her, that balance. And she was free from it, the darkness seemed to cling to the air once more. Thinking about it causes too many confusing thoughts, too many emotions she tried to free herself of, that even thinking about it now causes Regina to stop almost immediately. She lowers her eyes for a moment to regain composure, her faux calmness restored hopefully before the Sheriff noticed anything amiss.

"And the person you decide to immediately tell this to is the Evil Queen." She quips, lest she betray the odd feeling brewing. She thinks it might be akin to fear, fearful anxiety. For Emma, which made absolutely no sense at all. _Emma can do magic._ The phrase just keeps mentally repeating itself over and over, and Regina fails to fully comprehend it each time she does. It somehow manages to throw her off balance, and keep her on balance all at once. Different parts of her. Conflicting parts of her.

"Your logic never fails to be completely counterintuitive, dear." Regina says.

Emma huffs, both uncomfortably and impatiently as if there's some grand point Regina has failed to discover.

"When my…parents figured it out they brought me to the Blue Fairy. It was kind of weird, all the fairies kind of grouped around me and oohed and ahh'd, and then she offered to teach me how to use it. You know, not blow shit up and the like." Emma searches her eyes again.

"Yes, as much as hearing of Snow's almost pain gives me satisfaction, I'd rather the woman apparently now trying to rise _my_ son doesn't accidentally blow him up when he doesn't clean his room or do his homework."

Emma gives an actual pained look, but soldiers on.

"I didn't accept her offer." She says.

At this, Regina raises a perfectly arched eyebrow.

"And why not? I could think of no one to teach you about _goodly _magic than that insufferable fairy."

Emma looks at her in that unnerving way she sometimes does. Straight on, through her eye sockets and down to her heart and source of her pain. Like she understands more of her than Regina understands of herself. Her eyes are the brightest green. Like the pastures Regina used to ride her horse on.

"That's just it." She sighs. "Look I really know basically nothing about magic-"

"You don't say." She says dryly.

Emma looks at her pointedly. "_But_ I know that the 'good' kind is only one side of the coin. Not the full-rounded experience." She looks at her hands for a moment before stuffing them back in her pockets. Her eyes go back to being unnerving.

"And I want that. I mean, I don't know what I want. I want to understand more, and when I asked Blue about dark magic, she just looked at me like I'd grown two heads. _No _one wants to talk about it. I mean I blew a _lamp up_. That's not good, right? I feel like if I _don't _understand dark magic….I don't know. I don't want to become-" She stops herself in the middle of that sentence, and Regina wonders if the next word is_you_, and she's uncomfortably aware of the deja vu to her son saying those words, herself saying them to her mother, and how she hopes that wasn't the word Emma was going to say.

It dawns on Regina then. "You want _me _to teach you magic." She says, her tone raising as disbelief colors it. She cocks her head. She must still be in her bed, honestly this day is getting too inconceivably strange to be true.

"Yes." Emma says with too much resolution.

"Me. The _Evil Queen_. Who tried to kill you less than a month ago."

Emma sighs. "_Yes._" She says slowly.

"Beyond the sheer idiocy of that, what makes you think I'd _agree_?" She says, crossing her arms once more. "And if you use me seeing Henry more as a bargaining chip, I'm going to throw you off my porch."

Emma quirks an eyebrow of her own, and visibly thinks out her answer for a few moments. (Regina was convinced that Emma's thought process consisted of more _uhs _and _ums_ than actual thought.)

"You're the only dark witch I know that wouldn't have a sinister ulterior motive." She finally says, and with a sense of complete honesty.

Regina chuckles darkly. "And how would you know that, dear? How do you know I'm not plotting one at this very instant?"

Emma snorts. "You're not going to corrupt me, Regina."

"And how do you know?"

"Because of Henry."

Regina's eyes immediately narrow.

Emma thankfully elaborates. "You're not gonna hurt me, or even try to, because you want to gain Henry's trust back." She almost smirks triumphantly. It's in the corners of her mouth, just waiting to come out. She's obviously put some actual thought into this. Emma Swan with an actual plan. Will wonders never cease?

"_And_ you don't want to see Henry hurt because of my as of now unpredictable magic, as you said. So." She gives Regina an expectant look.

"How do you know I even can _produce_ light magic?"

Emma looks blank then, as if she'd honestly never considered this question. Before Regina can express another haughty retort, she grins and is somehow able to answer. "Henry said you conjured up a rainbow cupcake for him. So I'm guessing it's still in there somewhere."

Regina rolls her eyes. It's not a real answer, but perhaps Emma is afraid of the real one.

She knows she is.

Emma then surprises her again. "There's light magic and there's dark magic, right? I get that much. Snow tells me you saved her from a horse when she was a little girl, so I guess you know that too. She also said you used to hate magic, but could do it. So your magic had to turn dark. So I guess I assumed…..that it's still in there. Somewhere. Besides the kid being middle ground between us, I feel like you're the only one I know of that maybe understands both. And I want to understand both. She says this softly, no exasperation in her expression. No snappishness. She gives Regina a questioning look.

"Care to be my tutor, Your Majesty?"

Regina opens her mouth, and then closes it. And then does it again. Out of all the things Emma could have come here for, this was the very last on the list. Regina imagines Snow's face when she learns of her daughter's request, and this hilarious mental image alone almost makes her agree immediately. Then she thinks about what Henry would look like, and say, once he found out. He'd surely think Regina was out to corrupt his biological mother, and the fact hurts even Regina tries to stop it. But at the same time _if_ he saw that Regina was maybe doing it out of the "goodness of her heart," there was that benefit. She's still not quite sure whether she really wants to try for the lightness and the well-meaning heart she had as a young woman, or whether she just wants her son to think she has it.

There's a part that wants the former, and there's a part that wants the latter. Vengeance, the concept of _evil_was a familiar choice. Her vice. Why try for trust from those who'd never give it? The Evil Queen would have just burnt this town to the ground and left.

But _Regina_? Well, Regina doesn't know what exactly to do anymore. No more Mayor, no more Queen. The masks were taken from her. And she hates that. She really does.

She goes back to the matter at hand. To teach Emma Swan magic would give her something to do, and a way to channel her uses without actually doing magic herself. Or if she had to for demonstration, she wouldn't be penalized for it. (She'd try not to. She doesn't want to break any more promises to her son. She loves him too much for that. It may destroy her some day). And Emma, though she loathes to admit it, has good points. She wouldn't try to corrupt her. For Henry's sake.

Even if the idea is rather tempting, if she's being honest. A few months ago she might have even done it.

Images press into her brain. Old ones, frayed and torn at the edges. Of a man with shimmering grizzly skin and a sharp melodic voice telling her that magic is her destiny, telling her it will make everything better. Give her freedom. Give her the power always taken from her. Leading her to her own destruction. Being the puppet master to her entire wretched life all along. The perfect problem solver with the ultimate price.

_No._ Inwardly, she sighs deeply. A sigh that echoes through her ribcage and fills the emptiness even more. She wouldn't corrupt Emma Swan. There were certain prices she didn't want Emma to pay.

How_ disappointed _her mother would yet again be, an insinous voice says, slithering like a snake through her brain.

She removes the emotions from the situation for just one moment to way the actual pros and cons. Her son's love, her enemy's discomfort, things not getting blown up, accidentally turning Emma Swan into a dark witch no matter what she does. Unfortunately there aren't enough drawbacks on this idea to makes Regina immediately dismiss it, and Emma's obviously waiting for an answer.

Well. There goes her relaxing days of stewing in her own grief alone.

"We'll try it." She says evenly. "One day, and if it goes wrong, we'll never speak of it again, and you'll just have to take lessons from the Fairies."

"Done." Emma says, and outstretches her hand.

Regina narrows her gaze and fixes a steady stare. "Emma." She says seriously. "If you truly want to learn about dark magic, you may….fall anyway. It's delicious. The power. It's hard to resist." She needs Emma to understand this more than anything else. They hold eye contact for seconds, but it feels like minutes, hours. Emma's eyes are wide and searching, even as her mouth is slightly pursed.

Emma then chuckles, but it's strained. "I guess we'll have to make sure that…doesn't happen then."

"Right." Regina replies.

The tension thickens, and a draft pours in.

"Well." Emma clears her throat. "I should be getting back to the office." They haven't stopped looking at each other. Even now, with the absence of touch, there's that poignant _something_ that connects them. It unsettles Regina in a way nothing else does.

"Yes." Regina says and she wills herself to say a snappy retort but it dies in her throat. She carefully shifts her weight from one leg to the other. She can't even manage to lift an eyebrow.

"Look after my son." She finally says.

"You know I will. And Regina?" A smile emerges on her face, genuine and shining, and it's almost nauseating and she realizes the space of time between when a smile like that was directed at her.

"Thanks. I'm kinda not used to it…all. Thanks for not being, well, totally insufferable."

Regina rolls her eyes.

Emma nods like she understands, and bows her head and hunches over with her hands still in her pockets as if to say goodbye, and briskly turns around to go back to the junk pile she calls a vehicle.

Regina calls out to her as she's opening up her car door.

"Ms. Swan?"

"Yeah?'

"I'll see you this Saturday morning, 9 AM sharp. Bring a notepad."

She hears a chuckle and the sound the door slamming, and she's alone once more. The balance has been tipped again as Emma drives away from her home, and she feels the solitude more acutely than before.

She sighs and eyes her front lawn distastefully. The man who used to manage it for her now is very aware of how she turned his parents into newts. The draft hits her again, and she goes back inside, debating budgeting or reading her tomes, Emma Swan or ever-lasting solitude.


End file.
